


Men of Lawrence

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Series: Sons of Lawrence [2]
Category: Sons of Anarchy, Supernatural
Genre: AU, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bikers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Angst and Tragedy, Best Friends, Biker Dean Winchester, Biker Sam Winchester, Bikers, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort/Angst, Drug Use, Drug User Dean Winchester, Drug-Induced Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Female Characters, Female Friendship, Female Reader, Female Relationships, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Gratuitous Smut, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt John Winchester, Hurt Mary Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Illegal Activities, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Smut, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Oral Sex, POV Female Character, Past Violence, Penis In Vagina Sex, Platonic Female/Female Relationships, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut, Strong Female Characters, Threats of Violence, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violence, bike john winchester, biker mary winchester, drug user female reader, drug user john winchester, drug user mary winchester, drug user reader, drug user ruby, drug user sam winchester, hurt female reader, hurt reader, illegal drug use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-22 13:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14309661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: What happens when a rival biker gang comes to Lawrence and does whatever they deem necessary to take over COLT?





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

You were high. Higher than you’ve ever been, and you never wanted to come down. If only you could stay there, right on the precipice of being too high, where everything moved in slow motion, where you could see every piece of star dust that trailed a shooting star, feel it burn into the palm of your hands, grainy, like a piece of hot sand after a long day in the sun.

Dean chuckled behind you. “What’cha see, babe?” he asked, chest rumbling against your back, fingers splaying over your stomach.

“The stars,” was your breathy reply. “I want to catch one.” With your cigarette dangling between your lips, you put your hand out and wove it through the air, desperately hoping that you’d be successful this time.

He shifted behind you, disrupting your concentration, which earned him a slap on the thigh. “Watch it, Y/N,” he warned darkly, hand on your wrist, squeezing tight.

“Come on,” you whined. “I was nowhere near -” The protest died in your throat when Dean slid your hand behind your back, and pressed it against the bulge in his jeans.

“You were saying,” he gruffed, hot breath fanning over your neck.

The cigarette fell to the ground and your head lolled back to Dean’s shoulder. “Shit, Dean,” you moaned. “That all for me?”

“Turn around,” he ordered, grabbing your chin with his thumb and forefinger.

You did as he said, pulling your legs under so you were kneeling between his thighs. Illuminated by only the moon, you watched with drug-blown pupils as he gnawed on his bottom lip and maneuvered your hands to undo his jeans. Lifting his ass, he maneuvered his jeans down his legs, throwing them - and his black boxer briefs - to the side.

Reaching out, you gripped his hardening cock, moaning as it pulsed in your hand. Dean, echoing your moan, grabbed your waist, and pulled you onto his lap. His mouth was on yours, hands tangled in your hair, yanking your head to the side, driving his tongue into your mouth. The kiss was bruising, your mutual desire scorching through you, chasing the cocaine in your system, amplifying your already mind-numbing high. You wanted him…  _needed_  him.

You straddled his thighs, grinding down onto him, showing him that you weren’t wearing any panties, spreading your slick on his cock and balls. Dean sneered and bit your bottom lip, splitting it. When you pressed him to your weeping center, his hips shot up, filling you so completely, it made your vision go black. Your nails dug into his shoulders, pulling a slightly pained hiss from Dean.

“Hold on,” he growled, tightening his grip on your hips.

There was nothing gentle or slow about the way Dean fucked. It was primitive, rough, violent; just the way you liked it. He drove into you; unyielding, relentless, brisk, seemingly growing thicker as your walls clamped onto him, pulling him deeper, never wanting to let go.

The orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, stealing the air from your lungs, the sight from your eyes; all sensation seemingly melted away. All that remained was the explosion of every atom, the heavy drag of Dean’s cock, how it pulsed and his hips stuttered as he came, the way his teeth sank into your shoulder.

You didn’t remember anything after that.

* * *

Wearing one of Dean’s shirts, ratty pair of shorts, and flip-flops, you shoved your hair into a messy knot, and strolled outside. It was chillier than you thought it would be, but that didn’t bother you enough to go back upstairs and change. Besides, Dean was in the garage, working on his bike. You’d be warm in no time.

“Mornin’,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around him as you pressed yourself to his back.

Dean sighed and covered your hands with his grease-stained ones. “Afternoon,” he teasingly corrected. “Must’a been tired.”

“Must’a been,” you agreed, not letting go just yet. It wasn’t just the warmth that seeped into your body, it was… everything else. The solidness of Dean, the width of his shoulders, the softness of his belly under the sweaty grey shirt, the intoxicating mix of sweat, cigarettes, leather, grease, and Dean… it was comforting. You always felt so safe around Dean. He was your home, and you were his.

He chuckled softly and turned in your arms, brushing his nose against yours. “How are you feelin’?”

Your reply was a soft hum and a shake of your head. Getting stabbed and left for dead had a way of making you hurt every single day of the week. Having it happen twice in three years fucking sucked. By the time you got to the hospital, you had almost completely bled out. Then there was the surgery. Your friend and mentor, Doctor Novak, had to repair multiple internal organs, not to mention undergoing a skin graft. To say that you were in pain on a daily basis almost a year later was putting it lightly.

Pulling back, Dean looked down at you. “I worry about you, sweetheart,” he admitted. It wasn’t the first time he had given voice to his concern, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“I’ll be fine,” you sighed, not knowing if you were telling the truth or not. Right then, you felt anything but fine. In a few moments time, however, you’d have a cocaine-laced cigarette, and all would be right in the world.

When Dean’s lips pulled into a tight line, you chuckled. “Really, Dean. I’m okay,” you assured him before pushing up to your toes and catching his lips in yours.

“Take it inside,” John gruffed, popping up from beneath the hood of his black and chrome 1967 Impala.

Smirking, you strolled over to your father-in-law and kissed his scruffy cheek. “Afternoon, John,” you greeted, unable to hide a giggle when he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“‘Bout time you graced us with your presence,” he chuckled, voice gritty and rumbling.

“Oh, yeah?” you questioned, reaching into the pocket of his shirt, pulling out one of his special smokes. “Why’s that?”

John provided a lighter before answering. “He’s been talking about having a get together with one of our brother gangs. Won’t stop yammerin’ ‘bout it.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Dean started with a huff. “We haven’t seen ‘em for a while. And with Y/N and me getting married, I thought it was ‘bout time they all met.”

The first blue-smoke-tinted drag stung your lungs, almost pulling a cough from you. “It could be a good thing,” you added, rolling your neck at the pleasurable warmth that already started to blossom in your chest. “A lot has happened in the last year.”

“Maybe you’re right,” John said with a wink.

Dean stared at the two of you and scoffed. “It was  _my_  idea.”

“Semantics,” John waved him off before tucking in on himself in order to get under the hood of his baby once again.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Dean’s face. “You know,” he started, hooking his fingers in the loops of your shorts and pulling you close. “Maybe I should have you around every time I talk to the old man.”

“It’s not like I’m goin’ anywhere,” you rasped, blowing the smoke from your lungs.

“Thank God for that,” Dean hummed approvingly.

“Would you two get a fuckin’ room?”


	2. Chapter 2

John was at the head of the table, tapping his ring against the dark wood, signaling the start of the meeting. “We got a pretty big shipment comin’ in tomorrow. I’m gonna need all hands on deck. Mills has agreed to keep her deputies busy; enforcing a new ticket quota for the force.” Chuckles rumbled through the smoky room before quickly fading away.

Jody had proved to be a valuable asset to have in the group’s back pocket. Many favors had been done for Jody, for the group, and it would continue to be that way as long as John Winchester was in charge of COLT. It wasn’t only Jody that was not prepared for the day when John stood down, the same day that Dean would take control. They hadn’t really voiced their… concerns with neither the Winchester men, or their old ladies, but there were rumors, rumblings of a possible severing of ties whenever that day happened.

“I want you to ride with me and Mary,” John said, pointing at Bobby, Ellen, Dean, Y/N, Sam, and Ruby.

“Jesus, pops,” Sam scoffed. “How big a shipment you expecting?”

With a dark gleam in his eyes, John answered. “Remember Metatron?”

Dean shifted in his seat. “The drug dealing librarian?”

“The very same,” John replied. “He got put away for shippin’ drugs, using ‘rare and imported’ books a couple years back.”

“What could he possibly be sending us if he’s locked up?” was Sam’s question.

Chuckling, John reached down to his duffel, plucked out a book, and slid it across the table. “Take a look for yourself.”

Dean moved closer to his brother, watching warily as Sam opened the book. At first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary; black print on white paper. But then Y/N reached out and ran a finger over a page.

“It’s in the fuckin’ paper,” she breathed, a proud smile on her lips. “That’s brilliant.”

All eyes flew to John, who was smirking as if he were an alley cat that had just eaten a fat canary for dinner. “Nearly untraceable,” he boasted, shooting a wink to Mary.

“Who do we know that can get it out of the paper?” Ruby asked after taking a close look at the book.

Ash cleared his throat loudly. “I got everything all set up in the bunker. Should only take me a couple days.”

“How many books are coming in?” Dean asked, his interest clearly piqued.

“Couple hundred,” was John’s response. “And if all goes good with those, we’re lookin’ at gettin’ a thousand a month.”

Dean turned to Ash, eyebrow arched. “And you’re able to keep up with that volume?”

“They don’t call me Dr. Baddass for nothin’,” Ash sassed.

Bobby whistled low. “What purity we lookin’ at?”

“Eighty percent,” John laughed. “Get ready for your lives to change, boys.”

* * *

Ruby swam up to you and stood between your legs. “Big day tomorrow,” she hummed happily, dragging her hands through her hair.

“Right?” you scoffed, holding out your cigarette for her. “Not sure why I need to be there, though.”

“Who knows.” Ruby shrugged while taking a long drag. “Maybe it’s so you’ll get used to makin’ runs with Dean when he takes over.”

You nodded and plucked the cigarette from the brunette’s hand. “Anything ever go wrong on these runs, besides…” your voice trailed off as you motioned at the scars on your chest and stomach.

Ruby tipped her head, running fingers over your scars carefully. “No,” she answered honestly. “Gotta say, you’re the first.”

“Here’s hoping I’m the last,” you breathed, the smoke leaving your lungs in a rush. With your head tipped back, you closed your eyes against the sun, relishing in the warmth that washed over you.

“Penny for your thoughts,” purred Ruby from between your legs. She pulled the cigarette from between your fingers and breathed in the tainted tobacco. Ruby was always friendly and flirty, even more so when she was flying high. Not that you minded in the least.

It took your eyes a moment to adjust after opening them. “Nothin’ much,” you lied. Not very well, apparently, because Ruby used the edge to push herself up, coming nose to nose with you.

“Can’t bullshit a bullshitter,” she breathed, tobacco and whiskey on her breath.

“I’m just…”  _Fucking petrified that something bad is going to happen. I won’t recover from it this time._  “nervous, you know?” You turned away and took in another long drag.

Ruby pressed her lips to your cheek before dropping back into the water. “You ain’t the only one.”

“Really?” you questioned, smoke drifting from your nose. “You don’t show it, though.”

She disappeared into the water for a moment, emerging a handful of moments later with a gasp for air. “I’ve had lots of practice, Y/N. You’ll get there.”

“I hope so,” you muttered, flicking the spent cigarette into the makeshift ashtray. You slid into the water and shoved some water at your friend.

* * *

Dean watched as Y/N fell back onto the blanket, bare chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to catch her breath, beads of sweat glistening in the light of the full moon. She ran a hand through her sweaty hair before it fell back, her forearm resting above her head.

Fuck, he felt like he was the luckiest man alive right then. There was no way he deserved to have her in his life, let alone be able to call her his wife. It was if she were a living goddess; long legs, porcelain skin, soft features. He always thought he didn’t deserve love, real love, and then Y/N came into his life, and took his breath away.

“What’cha lookin’ at?” she huffed, amusement lilting her voice, her knee nudging his thigh.

“You,” Dean rasped, rolling to his side and kissing her. “Always you.”

Y/N sighed against his lips. “Careful, Dean. You’re starting to sound obsessed,” she teased.

“And what if I am, huh? I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too, Dean,” she said, looking up at him, her pupils starting to restrict, the cocaine and endorphins were wearing off.

Pushing the hair from her face, he kissed her flushed cheek. “Besides, shouldn’t every soon-to-be husband be just a little bit obsessed with his partner?” She let loose a shriek as Dean worked his fingers up and down her sides, tickling her.

“St- stop it,” she demanded, her back arching, her legs kicking.

“I can’t,” Dean laughed heartily. “It’s too much fun.”

Y/N pushed weakly at his chest as tears streamed from her eyes. “Not for me!”

“Isn’t that the point?” He rolled on top of her, pinning her to the bed with his hips, one hand grabbing her wrists and holding them firmly above her head.

The laugh died in her throat as the tickling ceased. Dean’s feather-light touches became rough, needy, demanding, instantly changing the mood. He quickly grew hard between her legs, their mixed arousal easing his entrance, her body accepting him like it always did; soft and supple, warm and inviting.

Dean rocked against her, driving deep into her with every thrust, her moans growing louder, her body tightening around him; her pussy, her legs. It was to the point where he didn’t care if she came or not, he just needed to find his release. With a searing kiss, he fucked her into the mattress, the headboard slamming into the wall, an animalistic growl low in his throat.

Y/N dug her heel into his ass, holding him to her as his cock pulsed heavily, her own orgasm seconds behind his, leaving the pair of them a sweaty, writhing, whimpering mess.

* * *

John and Mary were at the head of the pack with Bobby and Ellen close behind, off to the right. You and Dean were behind Bobby and Ellen while Sam and Ruby took up the rear, making sure no assholes came flying up behind the gang.

“It’s a gorgeous day to make some money,” John had said right before he started his bike. Nobody was in disagreement. Even if they were, John was in too good of a mood for anyone to argue.

Your hands were on Dean’s sides, fingers tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket. The sun might have been sitting high in the sky, but summer had started giving way to fall, which would explain why you threw on a  **[sweatshirt](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2F564x%2F28%2F05%2Fb8%2F2805b8d708592f0cf7cd6214ae657464.jpg&t=NDFjZDNhOTU4NDY4NGI2NDM2ZmE5ZjEwNjc0ZjM5MzIzMzBkMTM4MixNZUlmZ0k0WA%3D%3D&b=t%3ACfmOVX62N1SvYXISFQBhgQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fmrs-squirrel-chester.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173004673207%2Fmen-of-lawrence-two&m=1) ** at the last minute.

You had just rested your cheek on Dean’s shoulder when you felt him tense. Your head jerked up and what you saw made your stomach churn. Right around the bend, there was a parked semi, and it was blocking both lanes of the back road out of town.

Dean downshifted quickly and squeezed the brakes, locking up the tires, and filling the air with a squeal of rubber on tar. You held onto Dean as tight as you could as he fought to keep the bike vertical, praying that the crashing sounds you just heard wasn’t anything too serious.

When you opened your eyes, you watched as Sam jumped off his bike, Ruby close behind, both of them seeming to move in slow motion. Dean was tugging at your hands, trying to get loose, screaming… something that you couldn’t register because your eyes were focused on the unnatural amount blood on the tar, the pool spreading closer and closer to the bike.

Ruby’s scream pierced through the bubble, popping it loudly, propelling you and Dean from the bike. You ran over and dropped to your knees, assessing the situation to the best of your medical abilities, but you only knew one thing, and that was that John and Mary Winchester were dead.


	3. Chapter 3

Even in the chaos - Ruby and Sam’s cries, the hammering of your own heart, and Dean’s panic-laced shouts - you could hear a weak cry for help. It was a gravely injured Ellen, and it was coming from the embankment. You hurried off your knees and had only taken one step when there was the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. The four of you whirled around to find, not just one but, several guns aimed in your direction.

“Not so fast,” the taller one said, his accent annoying.

“She’s going to die if I don’t go down there,” you insisted, eyes full with unshed tears.

The new arrival laughed darkly. “I don’t care.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Dean demanded to know, chest heaving, nostrils flaring.

“My good man,” he sneered. “There’s no need for such language.”

Sam scoffed as his eyes rolled back. “Our parents are dead, by your fuckin’ hands, I’m assuming. We’ll say what we wanna fuckin’ say.”

“There are ladies present,” he rasped, motioning to Ruby and yourself.

“Fuck off,” you snapped.

“So this is how it’s going to be,” he said, clearly unamused.

Dean huffed loudly, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Haven’t answered my question, asshole. Who the fuck are you?”

“Name’s Ketch,” he answered quickly. “You must be Dean, which means you’re Sam.”

Sam didn’t say anything, just glared at the man that still held a gun in his hands, and Ruby, well, she was fuming.

“What do you want?” she demanded to know, a wild look in her eyes.

“Everything,” was his snarl of an answer. “The money, the drugs, COLT; I want it all.”

You grabbed Dean’s hand to prevent him from lunging at Ketch. “Get your own fucking club. This one’s taken.”

The men behind Ketch started laughing. “I have one. I’m looking to expand my empire, and Lawrence is the first of many towns I’ll be running.”

“Over my dead body,” Dean snarled, unbridled rage thrumming through him.

Ketch leveled Dean with his gun. “Trust me when I say, that can be arranged.”

“You already killed our parents,” Sam interjected, effectively gaining Ketch’s attention. “What’s stopping you from doing the same with us?”

“Honestly? I didn’t  _mean_  for that,” he pointed to the bloody mess, “to happen.”

“Bullshit,” you scoffed.

Ketch’s eyes fell to you. “I am truly sorry for what happened, I am. Threats and conquering, that’s my usual game. Violence and death? No, thank you.”

“Prove it,” Sam insisted. “Put down the guns and you can threaten us the way you’re used to.”

“This  _is_  exactly how I do my job,” Ketch chuckled, crossing the lane to stand in front of Sam, barrel aimed directly at the younger Winchester’s head.

Ruby shifted closer to Sam and grabbed his hand. “Sam, don’t.”

“I want COLT, and you’re going to give it to me,” Ketch went on as if Ruby wasn’t there. “If you don’t, everything you and your family have worked so hard for, everything and everyone you love will burn, and I’ll be the one holding the gasoline and matches. You don’t have to decide today, though that would be ideal. Take some time, think things over, get your affairs in order.”

The four of you watched as Ketch and the men tucked their guns away into hidden holsters.

“Don’t try and leave town, you won’t make it far, and trying to call for backup isn’t a great idea either. You have one week.” Without waiting for a confirmation, Ketch turned on his heel and disappeared behind the trailer.

* * *

“They’re dead?” Ash croaked, his eyes wet, shoulders bowed.

You hadn’t yet had time to wash the blood from your hands and arms, your face and neck. Your pants were caked in it, and your shoes were ruined. You worked tirelessly on assessing Ellen’s multiple lacerations as soon as Ketch and his goons finished their threats, but by the time the ambulance arrived, she had succumbed to her injuries. Bobby died as soon as he dumped the bike, his head having struck the tar in a last ditch effort to avoid crashing into the trailer as John and Mary did.

Dean shifted in the seat his father had occupied that morning. “Yeah,” his voice cracked under the weight of the rage and sadness that waged a war in his chest. “Bastard that killed ‘em is named Ketch.”

“You know this how?” Garth demanded. His entire body was shaking under the weight of anxiety in the room.

“He fuckin’ came out and introduced himself,” Dean snarled, bloody hands balling into fists. “That’s how.”

“That’s not all,” Sam said, shooting his brother a hard look. Yeah, they had both just become orphans, but that didn’t mean that they could get away with treating their crew like shit. “Ketch wants everything we have; the drugs, the money, the notoriety, COLT.”

Murmurs broke out among the members, and it was starting to unnerve you. You could pick up only certain words amidst the conversations, none of them were what John would have approved of.

Ash stood tall and pulled on his jacket. “Give it to him. We ain’t nothing without John and COLT ain’t worth dyin’ over.”

Dean was up and out of his seat so fast you didn’t see him until his forearm was across Ash’ throat, just enough pressure to get the young man’s attention. “What’d you just fucking say to me?” he snarled, spit flying from his lips, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Sam was behind his brother, pulling on his arm. “Let ‘im go, Dean,” he growled, trying - and failing - to move Dean.

“This crew was  _everything_  to my old man, you fucking know that, Ash. All a sudden, now that he’s dead, you’re jumpin’ ship? Nah, man. That ain’t cool,” Dean raged, his arm pushing into Ash’s neck.

You shouted at Dean, trying to get his attention, demanding that he let your friend go, but he wasn’t listening to you. He was seeing red. Everything and everyone else faded away.

“I said, let him go.” You were screaming at him, pushing on his chest while Sam had looped his arms around his brother’s chest.

Dean screamed until his face was red, until Ash’s eyes rolled back, until his hands slapped against the wall and his body went limp. His chest was heaving as he stood back and watched you drop to your knees and take Ash’s vitals, holding your breath until he sucked in a stuttering and rattling one of his own.

Sam forced his brother out of the room before the remaining members of COLT rioted, or worse, do to Dean what he had tried doing to Ash.

* * *

Dean ripped away from Sam’s grasp and quickly lit a cigarette. “Get off me, man.”

“Are you  _out_  of your fucking mind?” Sam demanded to know. “Because if you are, I can’t help you save any of this.”

“How the fuck can you be so goddamn calm, huh?” Dean shouted. “Dad and mom are dead, Sam. They’re fucking dead, and you’re Mr. Calm-Down-Before-You-Lose-Everything. Too fucking late!”

Sam’s eyes went dark. “You think I don’t know that they’re dead, that I somehow missed the whole thing?”

“I know, okay?! You saw the whole goddamn thing,” he ranted before pulling in a long drag. “But… we can’t hand over COLT.”

“Who said we were?” Sam asked, a cigarette between his lips. “We’re not going down without a fight.”

“How, though?” Dean was chewing on the inside of his cheek as his mind raced.

Sam shrugged his shoulders before answering. “There’s always Jax. Weren’t you talking about giving them a call before… before all this happened?”

“Yeah, but you heard Ketch, Sam,” Dean argued. “He basically said he’s got Lawrence under his control.”

“What about Mills?” Sam thought out loud. “She’s been really helpful lately.”

Dean nodded heavily. “Alright,” he agreed. “We’ll head over there tomorrow.”

“You gotta do one thing first,” Sam said as he looped an arm around Dean’s shoulders. “Go back in there and apologize.”


	4. Chapter 4

Jody was on her feet as soon as Dean and Sam strolled into her office. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she hissed, her hand on the door, her head in the hallway, frantically making sure no one saw the Winchester brothers come in.

“What are you talkin’ ‘bout, Mills?” Dean asked.

“Jesus, you look like shit,” she murmured before remembering what it was that Ketch threatened her with. “You can’t be here, boys. You gotta go.”

Sam was just as confused as his brother. “Our parents have just been murdered, and instead of helping us, you’re kicking us out?”

Jody was about to repeat herself, but stopped short as the weight of Sam’s words slammed into her. “Wait… what?!”

“Yeah,” Dean scoffed sadly. “Guy named Ketch killed them.”

“Shit, keep your voice down,” she hissed as she shut the door quickly.

“He’s already got you under his thumb,” Sam scoffed as he dropped to sit on the edge of her desk, and scraped a hand over his face, the realization of just how far Ketch’s influence had reached. “We’re fucking screwed, Dean.”

“I want to help you guys, I really do, but…” she sucked in a stuttering breath after her voice cracked. “It’s my mom.”

“He killed our mom, Jodes,” Dean hollered, his heart hammering in his chest.

Sam was in front of Dean, hands on his chest, shaking his head. “Keep it together, brother.”

Jody sniffled as she ran the back of her hand under her nose. “He’s not just going to kill her, Dean. He’s going to make me watch as he… God, I can’t even say it.”

“No one is asking you to,” Sam assured her as he turned away from Dean. “I just… is there  _any_  way you can help?”

The door opened suddenly, making Jody gasp loudly, her hand falling to the butt of her gun purely out of habit. It was Ketch, and he was wearing an amused smirk.

“Ah, my three favorite people,” he chuckled, eyes flicking back and forth between Jody and the Winchester brothers. “You’re not trying to break the rules already, I hope.”

Thinking quickly, Dean shook his head. “Just wondering when we can claim our parents’ bodies,” he forced himself to say coolly.

Jody was on the other side of her desk, flipping through the pile of paperwork until she found what she needed. “The coroner hasn’t finished with the examination,” she rasped, her voice tight and thin, wary of the new arrival.

“Can you call us when the examination is complete?” was Sam’s question.

Under the intense gaze of Ketch, Jody answered the best way she could. “Someone will be in contact with you, I’ll make sure of it.”

Dean smiled tightly at Jody, only to turn and cut a glare at Ketch. Sam was at his side, the breath tearing in and out of him as he worked to keep himself calm and not rip out the throat of the man before him.

“Have a smashing day, boys,” Ketch said, a smarmy smile on his face.

Only when they left the room, did he slam the door, making Jody flinch. “What did you tell them?” He kept his voice low, his accent honeying his words.

Jody swallowed around the knot in her throat. “No- nothing, Ketch,” she stammered. “I swear.”

“You swear, huh?” he chuckled, the heels of his boots scraping along the floor with determined each step he took.

She nodded, hoping he couldn’t see the way her hand twitched, her palm itching to unholster the glock on her hip. “On my son’s grave.”

Ketch hummed in amusement. He rounded the desk, his fingers dragging along the dark wood almost silently. “I think you underestimate me,  _Jodes_ ,” he sneered at the term of endearment Dean had used minutes ago.

Jody backed up slowly, stopping only when her back was against the wall. “E- excuse me?”

He chuckled again, this time darker, more menacing, sending a chill down Jody’s spine. “I have eyes and ears everywhere,” he murmured, his hand raising to brush some hair behind her ear. “This is my town now. The sooner you fall into line, the better.”

“Okay, I hear you,” she croaked.

Ketch’s hand was on her throat, squeezing just hard enough that it made Jody’s eyes widen. Her hands flew up to defend herself, landing on his chest. “Don’t fight me,” he warned her.

Jody nodded as best as she could, gratefully sucking in a rattling breath when Ketch released her a moment later.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised with a wink. He strolled out of the office, whistling happily as he went.

* * *

Dean roared as he launched a freshly-emptied glass across the room, sending shards of glass flying.

“Shit, Dean,” you hollered, taking cover behind your arm. “Watch what you’re doing!”

He was damn near vibrating with rage as you approached, continuing to do so even after you ran your fingers over his shoulders, the back of his neck, and up into his hair. There were tears in his eyes and a sadness like you’d never seen before, and it made your heart catch.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he sputtered, the breath leaving him in a rush.

You wrapped your arms around him and held him close, gasping at the weight of his arms on your back and shoulders, as he held onto you, like a drowning man in the middle of the ocean. Dean buried his face in your hair, and let loose a sob that shook you to your core.

“I’m here, baby,” you cooed, pressing a kiss to his temple, fighting to keep your tears at bay. Even though you had become really close with John and Mary, this was Dean’s time to mourn the loss of his parents. “I got you.”

* * *

Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped together, neck bent, hair hanging in his face. His shoulders were shaking and there were tears streaming down his face. He worked at keeping the sobs trapped in his throat and lungs, but his body was rebelling, they kept slipping out in short bursts, small choking sounds that made him feel as if he were going to fall apart at the seams.

Ruby emerged from the bathroom, strolled over, and brushed his hair back. “Are you okay, baby?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. He wasn’t okay, she didn’t expect him to be. Who the hell would be?

He shook his head and grabbed her hips, hauling her between his thighs as his arms latched around her waist. “No,” he choked, his face on her chest, his tears staining her shirt. “They’re dead, Ruby. I can’t… I… I don’t know -” a sob burst out of him, taking all logical conversation with it.

With a stuttering sigh, Ruby carded her fingers through his hair, her nails scraping over his shoulders. He drew her into his lap and sobbed into her hair.

* * *

Gabriel was pacing at the end of the table, his hand pushing through his hair. “This isn’t good, brother,” he muttered.

“No shit,” Dean snapped before pulling in a deep breath. “But I promise you, I ain’t giving up COLT. No way, no how.”

Balthazar pushed away from the table, his head shaking, a lit cigarette between his lips. “How you gonna guarantee that, boy? In case you hadn’t noticed, four people are already missing.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dean snarled, leveling Balthazar with a glance. “I was there, or did you forget?”

Garth was the next to speak up. “We’re with you, Dean, we are. It’s just -”

“What, Garth?” Dean demanded to know, his fist slamming into the table.

You dropped your hand on top of his, giving it a not-so-gentle squeeze. “You can tell us, Garth. What’s bothering you?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed heavily. “I’d be lying if I said I ain’t scared,” he admitted shakily. “This guy… he sounds  _really_  bad.”

“He is,” Sam deadpanned. “He’s already gotten to Mills, and she’s scared shitless. There’s no way to know how far his influence extends.”

“I know it’s a long shot, but if we could get word out somehow,” Dean mused, standing tall, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

Everyone’s eyes were set on you and Dean. By the time they heard the gunfire, it was too late.


End file.
